


I Am Sarah Palmer.

by Krakatau



Category: Halo
Genre: Covenant War, Earth, Gen, Multi, nanowrimo 2013
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 14:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1032891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krakatau/pseuds/Krakatau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sarah Palmer, daughter of displaced colonial parents growing up on Luna, embarks on the adventure of a lifetime in her drive to help eradicate the alien force that threatens all of humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. August 13, 2545

**August 13, 2545**

_You’re growing up. You’re growing up - and if you’re lucky enough you’ve got parents, maybe some siblings, aunts and uncles and grandparents - a ready-made support system. As you’re growing up they tell you what’s Right from Wrong. They tell you why you shouldn’t steal, why you shouldn’t hurt people, and how to stand up for yourself._

_Then you start to see it for yourself. You get to an age where whatever it is your parents and etcetera have taught you, or tried to teach you, makes actual applicable sense in the world. It’s an eye opener._

_So, what happens when what they told you doesn’t fit with what you see in the world?_

_I got to that age around nine, and got confused. I didn’t say anything because I figured maybe I just didn’t get it yet; there were other topics my parents countered with ‘we’ll tell you when you’re older’ so I waited until I was older._

_Instead of things becoming clarified, they got worse. More convoluted, but in the way that the Other Side looked clearer than the one I was standing on._

_See, my parents weren’t exactly soft-spoken about their disdain for the UNSC. They were colonists. They’d been born on the outer reaches of human-settled space. Generations had lived there, worked there, cultivated the land and carved a niche for themselves stars away from mankind’s birth in the dusty little crux of Mesopotamia._

_Their planet missed the touch of the insurrection. Fingers of rumors grasped at the surface but didn’t take hold. They were happy and no one wanted to upset that. Probably one of the only worlds that felt as such, to my understanding._

_Then, everything changed when the Covenant attacked. Their planet was glassed, my parents lucky enough to make it off on the evac transit, ended up hopping a bit from planet to planet before settling with some distant relatives on Luna and making a new life there. They weren’t exactly happy with it, though, compared to the one they’d been forced out of. I was born there and heard stories about farming and industry and how the UNSC lost it all because they were too focused on Earth and none of her Colonies._

_They didn’t come right out and say it, of course, not at first. There were little side comments, sighs and looks, that told me enough of the story. Then I started getting older and reading the articles and coming to my own conclusions and … they weren’t the same._

_I was around fourteen when I started to openly voice my own opinions and, of course, ran into interference with my parents. They’d deflect more than argue and it was a couple years before anything came to a head._

_I’d been interested in this young officers program endorsed by the UNSC. They came to my high school and did a presentation and I was eager to sign up. My parents vetoed it outright and the next four years was the tense back-and-forth of trying to get the other person to understand._

_I love my parents, I really do, but I think they’re wrong about the UNSC. I think the Covenant is more of a threat than anyone here really lets on. We get the news, sure, and none of it’s good, but the parties still go on. The bureaucratic bullshit and pandering and it doesn’t have a sense of severity that I feel._

_I mean, yeah. I feel it. An instinct in my gut, if that’s what you want to call it. I’ve seen the ViDocs, and I take them seriously. I want to be part of the solution. I want to stop this threat, not before it can overtake Earth, but I want to stop is as soon and as solidly as I can._

 

My name is Sarah Palmer. I am eighteen years old, today, and I am signing up for the UNSC.

  


“You what?”

My father didn’t normally yell. Not like this. His anger tended to roll off of him like a permeating cloud of pure, raw, energy. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Okay, you could see it in his eyes, maybe in the rigidity of his stance. He didn’t get angry often, but when he did, you knew it. Today, though, once I’d delivered my news, it broke like water crashing over a dam and I swear the house shook with his outburst.

I stood opposite, tall and rigid to bear against his protests. I didn’t realize I had made fists until I felt the sharp pressure of my fingernails against my palm. I didn’t lighten up.

“I enlisted. Marines.” I tried not to answer anger with anger. I tried to keep my tone even, my expression neutral, but there was pride behind my words, pride and, well, stubbornness.

My mom said I got it from my dad. Along with the whole anger thing. She’d say the two of us were like tectonic plates pushing against each other waiting for the earthquake. This was probably it.

“You two need to stop being silly. Sit down and prepare yourselves for cake.”

I pursed my lips and glanced over at her. She did her best to diffuse the situation, and in the past it had usually worked. Of course, in the past they’d been heated discussions about the UNSC, what they were up to, and just how dangerous this war was.

    My dad glanced at her as well, but neither of us budged. Not even when she came through with a lit cake and smiled up at both of us, pushing through between us to set it on the table. She put her hand on my back and motioned to the nearest chair, and my father took the cue to sit. Stiffly.

    I acquiesced finally and sat as well, looking at the cake and starting to feel a little bit numb. This was the end of Normal, I realized. A year from now I’d be done with boot camp and sent off into the stars, with combat boots and a battle rifle my new caretakers.

    No regret, but a sadness sunk in. I loved my parents, I really did. My dad laid his hand ont the table and drummed his fingers.

    “Sarah …”

    I glanced up at him, blinking out the dancing lights the candles had burned into my eyes when I hadn’t realized I’d been staring at them. “Yes?” I hadn’t lost the strain, my fists now pressed against my thighs, under the table, attempting a modicum appearance of calm for my mother’s sake, who hovered and flitted about, getting plates and silverware and glancing at the melting candles.

    “Why?”

    I stared at him silently for a moment. I was tempted to shake my head in disbelief. I got the sense he hadn’t been listening at all over the past few years. Then, I realized, maybe he wanted me to quantify it for myself, to know that even though he didn’t agree with me, at least he could agree with my motives, my intentions. I took a deep breath and sat myself straighter. My back ached, but I took that as a good sign.

    “They took your planet. They took so many. Whether or not you think the UNSC is doing the most that they can, they’re the only ones fighting against this. If I want to cut the Covvie bastards down, that’s where I have to do it.”

    He set his other arm across the table, turning so he was squarely facing me. Mother held back, waiting expectantly for whatever storm was about to break between us.

    “Why the Marines?”

    I tipped my head ever so slightly, and I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of my lips. It was a heroic, romanticized thought, shooting down from orbit in a glorified metal coffin, but that’s where I had set my sights; on the service I knew I could reek the most damage against the Covenant. Drop me in the thick of things and let me cut them apart from the inside out. The moment I’d heard about these specialized forces, the moment I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

    “I’m going to be an ODST.”

 

    My father sat back and started to open his mouth to reply, is expression a very telling mix of surprise and sorrow that cut into me like a knife, but then the sound of breaking china interrupted the moment in an instant and we both looked over at my mother. She’d dropped the plates in surprise and was stopping to pick up the shards, lips pressed tight, face averted but unable to really hide the look of horror she wore.

    I swallowed, rooted to the spot as my father bent down to help her. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, hence the whole reason I had enlisted before telling them. Not that I had any doubt I would back out on my resolve otherwise; this whole experience so far had proven I had no regrets for my action. I did what I felt was right and I was prepared - excited, even - for the consequences.

    It didn’t dull the pain I was putting them through, however, and I stood and gently blew out the candles before the wax ruined the cake.

    “I should go pack. The transport leaves for Reach in the morning.”

    That was a lie, since it wouldn’t be heading out for a week, but there was a hostel not far from the docks and I could stay there until departure. It would be easier on them. It would be easier on my.

    “Sarah.” My mom caught my hand as I went by her, and I knelt down next to her. “You come home safe. You promise me that.” There were tears in her eyes, but a fierceness behind them. That maternal instinct of keeping your young safe at all costs. I took a breath and sighed, looking at my feet a moment before looking back at her and replying. My throat was thick with emotion but I did my damndest to keep my voice steady.

    “I can’t promise that, but I will come home proud.” I squeezed her hand and kissed her forehead before getting up and walking briskly to my room. I didn’t want to be there when she cried.

 

    My suitcase was only about halfway through when I started running out of things to put in it. I’d kept to the necessary; change of clothes for the week at the hostel and the ensuing transport, a few ViDocs of friends and family and a couple other sentimental items that I thought could weather a footlocker life, and some valuable, though less sentimental items that I might be able to sell or trade. I had worked and I had saved but I was still only eighteen and hadn’t come from Money.

    There was a knock at my door, the short, soft rap of my father’s knuckles when he was feeling subdued. I paused for a moment, leaning over my suitcase, before turning back to the closet to look for a decent jacket.

    “Come in.”

    He slid the door open and leaned against the frame, hands in his pockets. “You know, somehow I imagined it would come to this the first time you ever asked about the frigates in the spaceport.”

    I paused as I was pulling something suitable out. I remembered that day. I’d been fascinated with the ships. Hell, I’d been fascinated with the image of them rolling into war, the blanket of space around them as they pitched and maneuvered against the deadly plasma of the Covenant destroyers. I’d only ever seen ViDocs, but my imagination easily filled in the rest. I’d felt proud just to be human, looking at those ships.

    I looked over to my father. “Dad, I was seven.”

    “Yeah, I know.” He slid fully into the room and sat himself at my desk, rubbing his hands together in what I knew was a nervous habit, just one I’d only seen a scant number of times in my life. “But the way you looked at them … I know that feeling. I haven’t experienced it since the colony, but I know what it’s like. It’s purpose. It’s drive. It’s that … instinctive little bug in our heads telling us this is what we were meant for.”

    He looked up at me and I could see he was close to tears. I felt my chest constrict painfully, my breath caught in my throat. What was I doing to these people. I loved these people.

    You’re protecting them.

    That unbidden, immediate thought bloomed like a firecracker and I sucked in a fresh breath. “Dad--”

    He lifted up a hand to stop me. He wasn’t done yet. I closed my mouth and waited for him to finish.

    “I’ve tried my best to divert your attentions, to keep you safe, but it’s obvious you’re on this path come hell or high water. I won’t let you leave on ill terms if I can help it. But, I do want you to know, revenge never feels as good as you think it will.”

    I couldn’t help but pull a small, melancholy smile. We’d had this discussion before, when Chaz Demeter had dumped me and spread some unsavory rumors, and my father had caught me in my attempt to exact revenge in the form of several rolls of toilet paper, some spraypaint, and Chaz’s new car. “Maybe, maybe not, but if in the process I’m able to save a planet or two, I don’t think that’s too bad of a tradeoff.”

    He chuckled, sadly, but it was there. “Maybe. We can only hope as much.” He stood up and covered the distance between us and pulled me into a fierce bear-hug. My parents never talked about the colony days in great detail, but I got the impression there’d been some hard-labor involved; my dad kept himself fit, but there were muscles in his grip that had to have been cultivated a while ago. I breathed out and embraced him as well. I knew this wasn’t supposed to be goodbye forever, but that it very well might be. “Listen. I got an old colony buddy on Reach, Michael Astor. I'll get you his contact information, you won't be completely alone when you get there. For now, at least stay for some cake.”

    “Okay. One slice.”


	2. En Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's first foray into space, before the hell of boot camp begins.

 

Chapter Two

 

    It was the farthest I’d ever travelled, and I knew it was a drop in the bucket compared to where I would eventually be going. The shuttle tooks us - the other recruits and I - to Earth, where we would train for thirteen weeks before shipping off to war or, as I hoped in my case, qualifying for the ODST.

    I had the misfortune of sitting next to the son of an ODST, an over-confident, swaggering idiot who leaned too close and slurred too softly. I knew better than to let his ego paint my impressions of the service I eventually hoped to get into, but it did make for a rather uncomfortable trip. I focused mostly on ignoring him and looking out the viewport; being my first time off-planet it was quite an amazing sight.

    You hear about it all the time, from soldiers coming and going, wealthy kids visiting relatives on Earth, that sort of thing. For me, it was eighteen years speculation finally awarded without disappointment. Stars glittered in every direction. Earth grew larger as we approached, green and blue and cloud-swirled. We passed ships; shuttles, corvettes, frigates. Most of them luxury class, untouched and gleaming, though some of them were the scorched, war-pocked remnants of some battered fleet. I found myself drawn to these, staring out the window and trying to read the scars.

    We landed at the spaceport at Cape Canaveral, and transferred to a high-speed tram to the base at Carolina. I watched the mountains and the forests whiz past, rock brown and scraggly green and wild unlike anything I’d known on Luna. Scattered here and there, of course, were the shock of houses and garages, buildings and businesses that cramped every corner of the earth and was the main cause we took to the stars in the first place. Trash cluttered the sides of the street, building up around towns and then fading to a dull trickle on the long, lonely stretches.

    It was no surprise the windows on the tram didn’t open.

    “Beautiful, innit?”

    I did a half-glance of annoyance at the voice, but soon enough realized it wasn’t the same guy as earlier; he’d since given up on me and vacated, apparently, and another strapping young war-groomed lad was taking his seat, leaning slightly over me to look out the window.

    I put a hand on his chest and pushed him back. “You can see it fine from there.” I had a feeling space and privacy were going to become hot commodities in very short order, and wanted to take advantage of whatever I could get in these last few hours.

    He held his hands up, placatingly, and settled back against the seat. “I dunno about you, but it even feels bigger.”

    “You’re not from Earth.”

    “Well, I was born there? But my family moved when I was one; I don’t remember it at all. Mostly we’ve lived on stations here and there, but we spent the last year and a half on Luna, so when I enlisted this is where they sent me.”

    “Military brat?” I could put two and two together. I couldn’t, however, keep the slight tone of jealousy out of my voice. I bet that sure made it easier for him when he did enlist.

    He chuckled, and rubbed his head and I took a moment to take him in, read his body language. He already looked like he belonged in boot-camp; his clothes were simple, and crisp, a conservative haircut, and broad shoulders, the slope of muscles evident under the T-shirt, thick neck … Had to be the son of career military.

    “Yeah. Mom’s army, Dad’s a naval nurse. It gets interesting at times.”

    I gave him a smirk. “I bet.” I was running on rumors, though, and he could tell. I could tell he was reading over me like I had him.

    “What about you? You don’t look the type.”

    I scoffed, “What, you think I’m too pretty?”

    “Oh, no … I mean, not that you’re not pretty, because you are. Not that I care -- I mean, no. Stop it, Ed.”

    He sighed and shook his head, and then reached toward me. I tensed for a moment, unsure what to expect after that display, but he tugged at the hem of my sleeve. “They’re gunna put you in PCP - the, uh, the Physical Conditioning Platoon - in order to fill this out.”

    I bristled, tugging myself from him and pulling my jacket on. “I was in track. I would have been in the young officers program but my parents were … less than thrilled with the UNSC in general.”

    He settled back, not at all offended by my brusque reply, and that just angered me more. “You got more guts than me, in that case.” He was looking at me with a new appraisal, and respect. Admittedly, it helped to soften my original anger, but I wasn’t going to completely let him forget it.

    “I’ll do what I have to do. I know I’m going to be playing catch-up.”

    “Best of luck, then.” He held his hand out. “I’m Edward Davis, by the way.”

    I looked at his hand and paused a moment, before taking it with as strong a grip as I could muster. He still had me beat. We shook.

    “Sarah Palmer.”


End file.
